As I prepare to wrap up my second full month of blogging, I wanted to give a shout out to some of the places I have referenced in the blog and to some that I should have.
Secret Service and I had a good shopping experience at K & G Fashion Superstore http://www.kgmens.com/ and I would recommend it to those looking for boys or menswear. The one we went to had an independent tailor shop within it, which made it super convenient. Also, we found a great selection of reasonably priced men's dress shoes at http://offbroadwayshoes.com/ Off Broadway Shoes. Those of you with teenagers know that their feet grow before the rest of their body and when Secret and I took the shoes to the counter to pay, the salesclerk looked surprised. She glanced at the size 9 (!) shoes and at Secret, who is holding steady at about 5'2" and said, "Are these for him?" On the way home, Secret, impressed by the size of his own feet, asked me if I'd ever heard that shoe size was related to . . . I acknowledged that I'd heard that, but didn't think there was truth in it. Still, I could tell he was hopeful.
I haven't been browsing http://foodnetwork.com/ the Food Network site as much since having to singlehandedly eat Paula Deens' spaghetti pie for five days, but I still recommend it when you are looking for inspiration for something new to cook.
This summer, did anyone watch http://nbc.com/americas-got-talent/ America's Got Talent? It became a ritual for our family to sit down together. We all had our favorite acts, but I have to admit that Landau Eugene Murphy, Jr. was my man from the beginning. I can't remember the last time I bought music but when he releases an album, I'm lining up. There is something about his humble personality, rags to riches story and unexpected talent that just makes me smile.
It's Autumn. Any traditions or rituals that you enjoy this time of year?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Suit Shopping with a Growing Boy
On Sunday, I took Secret Service clothes shopping. Secret hates clothes shopping and tries to convince me to go to the store without him, buy several varieties of outfits in various sizes for him, bring them home, have him try them on and then return whatever doesn't fit. Actually, Secret doesn't feel it is necessary to try on clothes, he thinks you can get an accurate measurement by holding the clothes up against your body.
Secret Service needed a new suit for the Speech and Debate class that he inadvertently signed up for and has been trying to quit ever since he got to the class and understood that he would actually have to give a speech or debate someone about something. Supposedly, he has written a speech and possibly even memorized it. Science Girl and I have not seen or heard the speech and Secret says if he has anything to do with it, we won't be seeing or hearing him perform it.
I asked a few friends about places to buy a reasonably priced suit for my growth-spurting boy. One friend suggested I get a suit for Secret at a thrift store. I explained that Secret has a rule about not wearing clothes that have been previously worn by others. While we drove to the clothing store, Secret, in more of an expansive mood than usual, chatted about how his first car is going to be a Mercedes. Secret reviewed some data on his phone and announced he can get a new Mercedes for $34,000 and if he earned $10,000 a year, he'd pretty much have the money in a little more than three years. Secret was not forthcoming on how he'd earn the $10,000 each year but didn't seem worried so I decided not to worry either. I am driving a Mazda so I wished him well and reminded him to budget for insurance.
I took Secret to a discount clothing store. He was unimpressed with the selection and said he suspected it was a consignment shop (which it was not!). While there, for the first time, Secret gave me a few more details, supposedly from the Speech and Debate teacher. Secret said the suit had to be solid black or grey, no pinstripes or navy. Secret also said the teacher told them to buy a good quality suit, "an expensive suit," because they'd be wearing it a lot and should look good and be comfortable. Not finding anything that met that criteria, we went on to another discount menswear store. In this store, Secret became insistent on buying a suit that I could tell was already too small for him. Trying to be patient (it isn't really one of my virtues), I explained that as a teenager he won't be getting smaller and instead, will be growing larger. I said that a suit that is too small today will be even smaller tomorrow. Thinking I'd handled that well, I was not happy when Secret said, "I disagree." However, it made me appreciate his potential for debate, his ability to defend a ridiculous position.
When we found a suit that was solid black, fit him and that he actually looked terrific in, Secret was unhappy. He wanted to spend all my money and the suit was a reasonable price. He perked up a little when he discovered I'd have to pay additional for alterations. We pick it up next week.
Secret Service needed a new suit for the Speech and Debate class that he inadvertently signed up for and has been trying to quit ever since he got to the class and understood that he would actually have to give a speech or debate someone about something. Supposedly, he has written a speech and possibly even memorized it. Science Girl and I have not seen or heard the speech and Secret says if he has anything to do with it, we won't be seeing or hearing him perform it.
I asked a few friends about places to buy a reasonably priced suit for my growth-spurting boy. One friend suggested I get a suit for Secret at a thrift store. I explained that Secret has a rule about not wearing clothes that have been previously worn by others. While we drove to the clothing store, Secret, in more of an expansive mood than usual, chatted about how his first car is going to be a Mercedes. Secret reviewed some data on his phone and announced he can get a new Mercedes for $34,000 and if he earned $10,000 a year, he'd pretty much have the money in a little more than three years. Secret was not forthcoming on how he'd earn the $10,000 each year but didn't seem worried so I decided not to worry either. I am driving a Mazda so I wished him well and reminded him to budget for insurance.
I took Secret to a discount clothing store. He was unimpressed with the selection and said he suspected it was a consignment shop (which it was not!). While there, for the first time, Secret gave me a few more details, supposedly from the Speech and Debate teacher. Secret said the suit had to be solid black or grey, no pinstripes or navy. Secret also said the teacher told them to buy a good quality suit, "an expensive suit," because they'd be wearing it a lot and should look good and be comfortable. Not finding anything that met that criteria, we went on to another discount menswear store. In this store, Secret became insistent on buying a suit that I could tell was already too small for him. Trying to be patient (it isn't really one of my virtues), I explained that as a teenager he won't be getting smaller and instead, will be growing larger. I said that a suit that is too small today will be even smaller tomorrow. Thinking I'd handled that well, I was not happy when Secret said, "I disagree." However, it made me appreciate his potential for debate, his ability to defend a ridiculous position.
When we found a suit that was solid black, fit him and that he actually looked terrific in, Secret was unhappy. He wanted to spend all my money and the suit was a reasonable price. He perked up a little when he discovered I'd have to pay additional for alterations. We pick it up next week.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Dinner Time
My current work schedule has allowed me the opportunity to plan and cook dinners at home, which I would enjoy if the boys would eat what I prepare. Instead, if one likes what I make, the other does not, and sometimes, neither likes it. I like trying new recipes so I had been scouring the Food Network site for ideas. Each evening, I would happily set the food on the table with recognition about the chef who created the recipe like, "Paula Deens' spaghetti pie." By the way, I thought Paula Deens' spaghetti pie was delicious, but neither boy would eat it. The recipe made enough for 12 people which resulted in a lot of leftovers for lunches for Science Girl and me. (Science Girl started to crumble when I packed the spaghetti pie in her lunch the third day and on day 4, she threatened to leave me if I sent it again.) After weeks of new recipes, but the same results, Science Girl did an intervention on me. She sat me down and had me look at the facts.
1. The boys (despite my best efforts) are not adventurous eaters.
2. (And, much like #1) - The boys want to eat the same foods over and over.
Her conclusion was that I should just make the foods they will eat. That leaves me with the following repertoire of dishes - burgers, steak, pasta, eggs, pizza. (Boring!)
I have heard that if kids help make the food, they are proud of their efforts and will be more invested in eating what they helped to prepare. I talked to each boy separately about developing a menu for a dinner. Sports' idea was to buy already prepared sushi and serve it. I nixed that so he's had to go back to the drawing board. Secret Service suggested making egg drop soup. He's made it before and both boys love it. I was encouraged - an idea I could work with. "What else should we serve?' I asked. Secret looked confused. "That's all," he said. "That's the whole meal?" He nodded.
So, as I write my grocery list, filled with the same old items, I can't help but check out the Food Network site, looking for recipes for tofu (I could pass it off as a pale burger) or calzones (like pizza but inside the double crust). I hope I can find a compromise between what they want and what I want.
1. The boys (despite my best efforts) are not adventurous eaters.
2. (And, much like #1) - The boys want to eat the same foods over and over.
Her conclusion was that I should just make the foods they will eat. That leaves me with the following repertoire of dishes - burgers, steak, pasta, eggs, pizza. (Boring!)
I have heard that if kids help make the food, they are proud of their efforts and will be more invested in eating what they helped to prepare. I talked to each boy separately about developing a menu for a dinner. Sports' idea was to buy already prepared sushi and serve it. I nixed that so he's had to go back to the drawing board. Secret Service suggested making egg drop soup. He's made it before and both boys love it. I was encouraged - an idea I could work with. "What else should we serve?' I asked. Secret looked confused. "That's all," he said. "That's the whole meal?" He nodded.
So, as I write my grocery list, filled with the same old items, I can't help but check out the Food Network site, looking for recipes for tofu (I could pass it off as a pale burger) or calzones (like pizza but inside the double crust). I hope I can find a compromise between what they want and what I want.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Letting Go
Sport is the kind of child who is rarely afraid of anything and as his mother, that makes me afraid for him. He is also a child who has a spiffy new bike and attends an elementary school that encourages students to walk or ride their bikes to school each day. Sport, now in 5th grade, has launched a vigorous campaign to be one of those students. On the face of it, it sounds like a good deal, exercise and independence. He has a buddy who already has permission to ride his bike to school and that child's mom explained to me that she has extensively reviewed the safest route for the boys to take and expectations about being safe in traffic. I get that but the part of me that is a Social Worker and has listened to many stories of bad things happening to innocent children, leads me to want to give the bad guys of the world less opportunity to be near my child. Meanwhile, Sport isn't having any of it. He saw kids his own age and younger ride their bikes to the day camp this summer and pushed relentlessly to be able to do so. Our compromise was that he could ride his bike but I would follow him in the car.
Recently, when I lamented to two friends about Sports' insistence to bike to school, they (separately) said, "Don't you want him to be independent? It got me thinking. While I don't want my boys living in our basement in their adulthood, I don't feel any urgency to have them become independent now.
The Internet said the preteen years are an important time for children to begin developing responsible behavior. In a study found on the Internet, it said Generation O youngsters (O is for optimistic and opportunistic) are growing up younger. Enfranchised by information technology, they are more independent and sophisticated than their predecessors and more confident about what they can achieve. I don't know if Sport is considered part of Generation O, but that description fits him. He cheerfully and enthusiastically insists on his independence.
Sport and I have come to a new compromise. He can join his buddy to ride to and from school two days a week. Sport is thrilled but I am still filled with great trepidation. In the morning, I stand at the house and watch them go. I don't get in the car to follow them.
Recently, when I lamented to two friends about Sports' insistence to bike to school, they (separately) said, "Don't you want him to be independent? It got me thinking. While I don't want my boys living in our basement in their adulthood, I don't feel any urgency to have them become independent now.
The Internet said the preteen years are an important time for children to begin developing responsible behavior. In a study found on the Internet, it said Generation O youngsters (O is for optimistic and opportunistic) are growing up younger. Enfranchised by information technology, they are more independent and sophisticated than their predecessors and more confident about what they can achieve. I don't know if Sport is considered part of Generation O, but that description fits him. He cheerfully and enthusiastically insists on his independence.
Sport and I have come to a new compromise. He can join his buddy to ride to and from school two days a week. Sport is thrilled but I am still filled with great trepidation. In the morning, I stand at the house and watch them go. I don't get in the car to follow them.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Family Car Trips
I was re-reading a book that I have,"101 Things Every Kid Should Do Growing Up," by Alecia T. Devantier. I have enjoyed seeing her ideas about what makes an ideal childhood. One of her ideas is that every kid should experience a family car trip. It got me to reminiscing about some of our family car trips.
Ever since Secret Service was small, he enjoyed all modes of transportation except the car. He admired buses, trains, always had a passion for airplanes, enjoyed a boat ride. But, get him in the car and he becomes unpleasant.
Several years ago, Science Girl had accumulated some Marriott points and since we had no plans to go out of town in the foreseeable future, we thought it would be fun to take our then 5 year old and 1 year old to a town 40 minutes away. We knew that Secret Service was not a fan of a long car ride but we prepared him for a "long" car ride, saying we were going on a vacation and would stay at a hotel. We were smug, thinking that before he could begin to complain, we'd surprise him by already being at our destination. Late on a Friday afternoon, we packed up and Science Girl eased the car onto the highway. We shared a smile as we handed Secret a book to look at, a stuffed animal to hold and put on one of his favorite music tapes.
Soon, Secret pierced the relative quiet of the car by starting the chant, known to parents everywhere. "Are we there yet?' he asked. I looked at the clock. We'd been in the car for 7 minutes.
"Where could we be?" I asked, as if he'd have a sensible answer. I turned to Science Girl, "How could we be at a vacation destination in 7 minutes?" I was indignant. To no one in particular, I exclaimed, "We couldn't even be at the airport in 7 minutes!" Of course, Secret was not interested in these details, he just continued to intermittently whine about it for the next 33 minutes.
I thought maybe 5 was too young to appreciate a family car trip so when Secret was 8, we drove with both boys from Portland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington, with a stop at Mount St. Helen. Secret had professed an interest in Mount St Helen. We handed the kids books, music, snacks. This time, because Secret was so much older and more mature, it took 20 minutes before he started to complain. Sport was 4, old enough to have something to say, and he mimicked his older brother, both complaining at various times that they were bored, hungry, thirsty, their legs were stiff or alternately numb. The author of "101 Things Every Kid Should Do Growing Up" suggests that on the family car trip, you should turn off the radio and teach your children the songs you sang on car trips when you were a kid. Science Girl and I have lovely voices and both were in choruses while growing up, but when we launched into a melodic "B-I-N-G-O" our children became mutinous. From the back seat, they started to argue with each other. I had one of those cosmic kicks in the head when I realized that without ever seeing my sisters and me as children, they were doing a dead-on impersonation of us squabbling about being on each other's side, pushing and shoving each other. Our pictures from Mount St. Helen show all of us looking grim, like we were concerned about being so close to harms' way (the volcano) but really we dreaded having to climb back into the car with each other.
This last March, we were on a family car trip from the Colorado mountains, returning to Denver. Taking another idea from "101 Things," I asked the boys (13 and 9 years old at the time) if they wanted to play license plate spelling, where you make words with the letters in the license plates of passing cars. To say they weren't interested would be a gross understatement. We were approaching an outlet mall and I signaled for Science Girl to stop so I could do a little shopping. The boys were indignant, saying that they wanted to get home as soon as possible. Secret turned to his brother, "She couldn't do this if we were in an airplane," he said. Sport agreed.
Ever since Secret Service was small, he enjoyed all modes of transportation except the car. He admired buses, trains, always had a passion for airplanes, enjoyed a boat ride. But, get him in the car and he becomes unpleasant.
Several years ago, Science Girl had accumulated some Marriott points and since we had no plans to go out of town in the foreseeable future, we thought it would be fun to take our then 5 year old and 1 year old to a town 40 minutes away. We knew that Secret Service was not a fan of a long car ride but we prepared him for a "long" car ride, saying we were going on a vacation and would stay at a hotel. We were smug, thinking that before he could begin to complain, we'd surprise him by already being at our destination. Late on a Friday afternoon, we packed up and Science Girl eased the car onto the highway. We shared a smile as we handed Secret a book to look at, a stuffed animal to hold and put on one of his favorite music tapes.
Soon, Secret pierced the relative quiet of the car by starting the chant, known to parents everywhere. "Are we there yet?' he asked. I looked at the clock. We'd been in the car for 7 minutes.
"Where could we be?" I asked, as if he'd have a sensible answer. I turned to Science Girl, "How could we be at a vacation destination in 7 minutes?" I was indignant. To no one in particular, I exclaimed, "We couldn't even be at the airport in 7 minutes!" Of course, Secret was not interested in these details, he just continued to intermittently whine about it for the next 33 minutes.
I thought maybe 5 was too young to appreciate a family car trip so when Secret was 8, we drove with both boys from Portland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington, with a stop at Mount St. Helen. Secret had professed an interest in Mount St Helen. We handed the kids books, music, snacks. This time, because Secret was so much older and more mature, it took 20 minutes before he started to complain. Sport was 4, old enough to have something to say, and he mimicked his older brother, both complaining at various times that they were bored, hungry, thirsty, their legs were stiff or alternately numb. The author of "101 Things Every Kid Should Do Growing Up" suggests that on the family car trip, you should turn off the radio and teach your children the songs you sang on car trips when you were a kid. Science Girl and I have lovely voices and both were in choruses while growing up, but when we launched into a melodic "B-I-N-G-O" our children became mutinous. From the back seat, they started to argue with each other. I had one of those cosmic kicks in the head when I realized that without ever seeing my sisters and me as children, they were doing a dead-on impersonation of us squabbling about being on each other's side, pushing and shoving each other. Our pictures from Mount St. Helen show all of us looking grim, like we were concerned about being so close to harms' way (the volcano) but really we dreaded having to climb back into the car with each other.
This last March, we were on a family car trip from the Colorado mountains, returning to Denver. Taking another idea from "101 Things," I asked the boys (13 and 9 years old at the time) if they wanted to play license plate spelling, where you make words with the letters in the license plates of passing cars. To say they weren't interested would be a gross understatement. We were approaching an outlet mall and I signaled for Science Girl to stop so I could do a little shopping. The boys were indignant, saying that they wanted to get home as soon as possible. Secret turned to his brother, "She couldn't do this if we were in an airplane," he said. Sport agreed.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday Evening
After dinner and cleaning the kitchen, I began to fantasize about laying in my bed. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to relax, recline, lounge, surrounded by my books, today's unread newspaper, pens, paper, laptop, remote, all within easy reach.
But first, I had to supervise the boys completing some overdue tasks like straightening up their rooms. I had my no-nonsense drill sergeant persona going and we were making some progress when my parents phoned. Hoping to divert my focus, Secret answered the phone, had a short chat with his grandparents where he sweetly asked them to get him a debit card (thankfully, they declined) and then handed the phone to me. When I initiated a conversation, the boys ran off, later claiming that they thought they'd done a terrific job on their rooms and had legitimately been excused. I finished my phone call and lassoed them back to the tasks at hand.
After the rooms were minimally tidied, Sport was directed to get in bed with the book he is supposedly reading for school. Through no fault of his (at least that is what he said), he couldn't comply because he couldn't find the book. Following a successful search and rescue, Sport got in bed with the book. Gleeful, thinking I was close to my own goal of climbing into my bed, I celebrated by folding a load of laundry that had been in the dryer for the entire weekend. As I finished, Secret Service approached and confided that while riding his bike through a small pond earlier in the day, his shoes had mysteriously become wet. Another hunt commenced, this one for Secrets' old pair of shoes. Another success! We found both shoes (don't you hate it when you can only find one?) and put them in a prominent place so that Secret could easily locate them tomorrow.
I could feel myself getting closer to being able to relax in bed. On my way, I let the dog outside to do his business, the woman I carpool with texted me to organize this week's driving, I mediated an argument between the boys about whose turn it was to have the dog sleep in their room, moved clothes from the washer into the dryer, filled Sports' humidifier, and got Secret a box of tissues. Every time I turned around, Sport was out of bed for one reason or another. I tucked him in three times, eventually issuing an ultimatum that if he popped up again he'd go to bed 30 minutes earlier tomorrow.
Finally, I was in my bed. Unfortunately, it was time to go to sleep.
But first, I had to supervise the boys completing some overdue tasks like straightening up their rooms. I had my no-nonsense drill sergeant persona going and we were making some progress when my parents phoned. Hoping to divert my focus, Secret answered the phone, had a short chat with his grandparents where he sweetly asked them to get him a debit card (thankfully, they declined) and then handed the phone to me. When I initiated a conversation, the boys ran off, later claiming that they thought they'd done a terrific job on their rooms and had legitimately been excused. I finished my phone call and lassoed them back to the tasks at hand.
After the rooms were minimally tidied, Sport was directed to get in bed with the book he is supposedly reading for school. Through no fault of his (at least that is what he said), he couldn't comply because he couldn't find the book. Following a successful search and rescue, Sport got in bed with the book. Gleeful, thinking I was close to my own goal of climbing into my bed, I celebrated by folding a load of laundry that had been in the dryer for the entire weekend. As I finished, Secret Service approached and confided that while riding his bike through a small pond earlier in the day, his shoes had mysteriously become wet. Another hunt commenced, this one for Secrets' old pair of shoes. Another success! We found both shoes (don't you hate it when you can only find one?) and put them in a prominent place so that Secret could easily locate them tomorrow.
I could feel myself getting closer to being able to relax in bed. On my way, I let the dog outside to do his business, the woman I carpool with texted me to organize this week's driving, I mediated an argument between the boys about whose turn it was to have the dog sleep in their room, moved clothes from the washer into the dryer, filled Sports' humidifier, and got Secret a box of tissues. Every time I turned around, Sport was out of bed for one reason or another. I tucked him in three times, eventually issuing an ultimatum that if he popped up again he'd go to bed 30 minutes earlier tomorrow.
Finally, I was in my bed. Unfortunately, it was time to go to sleep.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
"Where?" - Part 2 or The Plight of the Two Car Family
Science Girl and I share the monumental task of driving the boys to and from school and extracurricular activities. Both boys have backpacks filled with important schoolwork. And they both have bags filled with sports equipment. When they are driven home, we always remind them to get their things out of the car. Sometimes they listen, but other times . . .
Secret Service believes in traveling light and not doing any task that isn’t absolutely necessary. For those reasons, he has been the premier violator of the rule that you take your things with you when you exit the vehicle. We very ineffectively have repeatedly reminded him. One afternoon last spring, he suddenly realized that Science Girl had left on a business trip in her car with his school backpack, homework and school issued laptop computer in the backseat. Secret said he had homework to complete and had to have all those things with him at school the next day. We bonded by pacing and hyperventilating. We called Science Girl, who was en route to the airport. After delivering an “I told you” lecture to Secret, she told us where she planned to park the car so that we could retrieve his important items. Looking at my key ring, I remembered that I’d lost my key to Science Girl’s car. I received an “I told you” lecture and she promised to leave the car unlocked.
We jumped into my car, Secret, Sport and for good company, the dog (who was an unwitting bystander to the craziness), and drove to the airport parking lot. We entered the huge lot and surprisingly were able to find the car without any problem. I allowed myself a moment of jubilation before we pulled the door handle and found Science Girls’ car to be locked. More hyperventilating. Secret and I unraveled a bit, each blaming the other for the dilemma we were in. Then, we pulled ourselves together and joined forces against Science Girl. Why was the car locked when we’d told her not to do so? I called Science Girl, ready to give her a piece of my mind, but she defended herself saying she believed she’d left the car unlocked and that some misguided #@!% good Samaritan must have locked it. Secret and I started to whimper, Sport said he was bored, the dog looked confused.
Science Girl had an idea – ask the workers at the parking lot to break into the car. I approached them hesitantly. Maybe they pitied us (I think the dog added a bit of Grapes of Wrath poignancy to the picture) but whatever the reason, they agreed to help. Luckily, Science Girl had left the drivers’ side window open a crack and using a tool, they were able to open the door. Secret was reunited with his possessions, we thanked the people profusely.
On the drive back home, Sport suggested that we purchase one of those break-in-the-car devices so that we'd be prepared in the future. I assured him that Secret Service had learned his lesson. When we reached the house, the kids went inside and I took the dog for a short walk to reward him for his patience. When I returned, I glanced into the car. Secret had gone into the house leaving all the rescued items in the car. I made a mental note to make a copy of Science Girls car key.
Secret Service believes in traveling light and not doing any task that isn’t absolutely necessary. For those reasons, he has been the premier violator of the rule that you take your things with you when you exit the vehicle. We very ineffectively have repeatedly reminded him. One afternoon last spring, he suddenly realized that Science Girl had left on a business trip in her car with his school backpack, homework and school issued laptop computer in the backseat. Secret said he had homework to complete and had to have all those things with him at school the next day. We bonded by pacing and hyperventilating. We called Science Girl, who was en route to the airport. After delivering an “I told you” lecture to Secret, she told us where she planned to park the car so that we could retrieve his important items. Looking at my key ring, I remembered that I’d lost my key to Science Girl’s car. I received an “I told you” lecture and she promised to leave the car unlocked.
We jumped into my car, Secret, Sport and for good company, the dog (who was an unwitting bystander to the craziness), and drove to the airport parking lot. We entered the huge lot and surprisingly were able to find the car without any problem. I allowed myself a moment of jubilation before we pulled the door handle and found Science Girls’ car to be locked. More hyperventilating. Secret and I unraveled a bit, each blaming the other for the dilemma we were in. Then, we pulled ourselves together and joined forces against Science Girl. Why was the car locked when we’d told her not to do so? I called Science Girl, ready to give her a piece of my mind, but she defended herself saying she believed she’d left the car unlocked and that some misguided #@!% good Samaritan must have locked it. Secret and I started to whimper, Sport said he was bored, the dog looked confused.
Science Girl had an idea – ask the workers at the parking lot to break into the car. I approached them hesitantly. Maybe they pitied us (I think the dog added a bit of Grapes of Wrath poignancy to the picture) but whatever the reason, they agreed to help. Luckily, Science Girl had left the drivers’ side window open a crack and using a tool, they were able to open the door. Secret was reunited with his possessions, we thanked the people profusely.
On the drive back home, Sport suggested that we purchase one of those break-in-the-car devices so that we'd be prepared in the future. I assured him that Secret Service had learned his lesson. When we reached the house, the kids went inside and I took the dog for a short walk to reward him for his patience. When I returned, I glanced into the car. Secret had gone into the house leaving all the rescued items in the car. I made a mental note to make a copy of Science Girls car key.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
"Where?" - Part 1
The best case scenario for a school day morning is that the children are both in pleasant moods, getting ready as directed, no one is complaining of a malady that would keep them from attending. The worst case, one of the kids can't find something. Many of these things can be skillfully ignored except for the following - Where are my shoes and where is my homework? Both of these questions raise my heart rate and make me start to sweat. (It’s like aerobics – after this kind of morning, I don’t feel the need to work out.) In the blink of an eye, that one word, “where” can turn a sunny, happy morning into a disaster movie.
When this sort of catastrophe strikes, I want to be the calm mommy who murmurs reassuring things to the upset child like, “take a deep breath,” and helps them re-trace their steps to find the lost item. Or, I want to be the organized mommy who has designated a place for every item and sure enough, when we go hand in hand to look together, the items are just where they should be! Or, the natural and logical consequence mommy who lets the children figure it out themselves by asking helpful questions like, “How do you want to handle this?”
Instead, I am the kind of mommy who is already running late and starts racing around the house, scurrying this way and that way, frantically trying to find the items while alternately shouting ideas of places where they should look and mumbling PG-rated obscenities under my breath. Panicked, flushed, frenzied, the search continues. After the screaming (mine) and the tears (mine) fail to produce the missing item, I start to problem solve. I think I’ve had some clever solutions to these dire situations.
Last year, Secret Service had to wear dress shoes to his charter school each day and one morning when he couldn't find his current pair, I felt like I saved the day by finding the dress shoes from the year before. Instead of gratitude, Secret kept saying his toes were scrunched and going numb. Another time, Sport couldn't find his shoes and I managed to find a matched set of pool shoes. The pool shoes fit him and I thought we were ready to walk out the door but he objected, claiming that they weren't appropriate for a snowy day. I offered him a pair of socks but he still took exception to the plan. One time when Secret was younger and couldn't find his shoes, I tried to convince him that wearing a pair of slippers would be a good idea and make him appear creative and imaginative. He didn't buy it and either did Science Girl. She said it would make him look like he was on a day pass from a mental institution. The only time I was successful was when Sport was younger and I talked him into wearing bulky snow boots on a warm spring day by saying that they reminded me of the boots a clone trooper would wear and that if he found puddles or mud, he could jump in it and I'd be OK with that.
Once, when Secret Service and I were searching for his completed homework, we thought to look in the trash can. We discovered the homework, intact, but covered with coffee grounds. While we both hyperventilated, Science Girl, composed and unflappable, placed the stained paper (with coffee grounds clinging to it) in a large plastic baggy, much as she would handle something contaminated in the lab and happily presented this to Secret to take to school. Secret looked at her like she was handing him a severed head to take to show and tell.
Science Girl and I try so hard, I don't know why the kids aren't more appreciative.
When this sort of catastrophe strikes, I want to be the calm mommy who murmurs reassuring things to the upset child like, “take a deep breath,” and helps them re-trace their steps to find the lost item. Or, I want to be the organized mommy who has designated a place for every item and sure enough, when we go hand in hand to look together, the items are just where they should be! Or, the natural and logical consequence mommy who lets the children figure it out themselves by asking helpful questions like, “How do you want to handle this?”
Instead, I am the kind of mommy who is already running late and starts racing around the house, scurrying this way and that way, frantically trying to find the items while alternately shouting ideas of places where they should look and mumbling PG-rated obscenities under my breath. Panicked, flushed, frenzied, the search continues. After the screaming (mine) and the tears (mine) fail to produce the missing item, I start to problem solve. I think I’ve had some clever solutions to these dire situations.
Last year, Secret Service had to wear dress shoes to his charter school each day and one morning when he couldn't find his current pair, I felt like I saved the day by finding the dress shoes from the year before. Instead of gratitude, Secret kept saying his toes were scrunched and going numb. Another time, Sport couldn't find his shoes and I managed to find a matched set of pool shoes. The pool shoes fit him and I thought we were ready to walk out the door but he objected, claiming that they weren't appropriate for a snowy day. I offered him a pair of socks but he still took exception to the plan. One time when Secret was younger and couldn't find his shoes, I tried to convince him that wearing a pair of slippers would be a good idea and make him appear creative and imaginative. He didn't buy it and either did Science Girl. She said it would make him look like he was on a day pass from a mental institution. The only time I was successful was when Sport was younger and I talked him into wearing bulky snow boots on a warm spring day by saying that they reminded me of the boots a clone trooper would wear and that if he found puddles or mud, he could jump in it and I'd be OK with that.
Once, when Secret Service and I were searching for his completed homework, we thought to look in the trash can. We discovered the homework, intact, but covered with coffee grounds. While we both hyperventilated, Science Girl, composed and unflappable, placed the stained paper (with coffee grounds clinging to it) in a large plastic baggy, much as she would handle something contaminated in the lab and happily presented this to Secret to take to school. Secret looked at her like she was handing him a severed head to take to show and tell.
Science Girl and I try so hard, I don't know why the kids aren't more appreciative.
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